Flames
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Chris Jericho was curious about The Big Red Monster, and what was hidden behind that mask. When he's caught spying, what will the Big Red Monster do? For ShawnsGuardianAngel's Spring Prompt.


_**A/n: From ShawnsGuardianAngel Spring Prompt. For: Dark Kaneanite :) Warning: Smut. Don't like, don't read.**_

Chris watched from what he deemed to be a safe area, as the big man moved in the ring. He was laced with muscle that Chris could see moving even under the black and red fabric. He seemed like such a mystery, always highly guarded in every aspect of the word. Kane spoke very little, what he did say was always simple, and to the point, often times no more than a friendly 'fuck you' from behind that mask that he wore. Out from the leather that was strapped to his unknown face, those mis-matched eyes twitched constantly, always watching and tracking the slightest of movements warily. The gestures were only short of paranoid, and Chris could only wonder what kind of thing a man that big and seemingly monstrous had to be afraid of.

Chris's intrigue was sure to get him in trouble, possibly flattened, but he couldn't help it. There was something about the big man that drew him, like a moth to a—well, you know. So he watched from afar, being as discrete as he could, and yet he still had a creeping, cold, feeling that Kane knew he was being watched, despite how cautious Chris had attempted to be in his pursuits. His fingers went to the tips of his long, blond hair, and twirled the ends around the knuckles, tugging it a little nervously.

When he saw Kane moving towards him, he ducked for the closest cover he could find. It was like something stupid from high school, Chris thought as he glanced around the shadows and saw the outlines of brooms and mops cowering with him in the small space—obviously the janitors closet. He turned back to the door and eased it open to a small sliver, and bit his lip as he watched The Big Red Monster move down the hallway, his long legs carrying him in a way that was strangely entrancing.

But what really caught Chris's attention, was the way Kane's shoulders were slumped, his head bowed, with the long curls cascading over that mask. Chris opened the door a bit more, to get a better view. Suddenly, Kane stopped. His long strides ceased and he became still. The only sound was Chris's breathing, which now seemed loud, almost deafening, to his own ears. Kane straightened, and turned his head to look over his shoulder. Through that damp curtain of hair his light eye narrowed onto a spy. Chris pulled the door closed with a gasp, knowing he'd been seen yet hoping he hadn't. The chill that spiked up and down his spine reinforced that he had, yet still he backed into the furthest corner of the closet, trying to hide. Bottles of cleaning supplies wobbled from the shelves as Chris fumbled around, and they came crashing down around him. An arm shot in and grabbed his t-shirt, twisting the Jerichoholic logo it was branded with. Chris squeaked as he was pulled from the dark space and slammed against one wall of the hallway, jerked up off his feet. Those eyes hovered over his, pinning them.

"Why?" The one word was spoken slowly, in a low growl.

Chris's mouth worked silently, attempting words but failing. Kane's gloved hand came to the blonds face, lightly touching the smooth skin of Chris's cheek, before griping his chin.

"Why!" The Monster shouted.

Kane's gloved hand almost sensuously moved from Chris's chin, along his jaw, and then down to grasp at his neck as though readying for a chokeslam--perhaps back into the janitors closet with the tipped bleach and fallen mops. Just maybe if Chris could have kept his mouth closed, such a fate would be avoided. However, one of Chris's few flaws was just under his nose and often acted apart from his better judgment, which was also in short supply when needed the most.

"Because I can, assclown." Chris shot back.

Chris's cobalt eyes grew wide seeming surprised at his bravado, which to Kane was probably labeled simply "stupidity". Chris's lips couldn't help but curl into a cocky smirk, which was promptly wiped off when Kane's hand tightened around his neck, and swung him hard against the opposite wall.

"The only ass I see is about to be set on fire." Kane growled, tilting his head a bit as he spoke, his hypnotic, clashing, eyes flashed. "A more literal definition of the term 'flamer'."

Kane snapped his thumb and index finger and from the tips danced small flames flickering a bright orange with blue-white centers. He held the baby flames so close to Chris's nose that he could feel heat of it dancing on those nimble fingers. With another snap, the fire was vanquished. Thread-like tendrils of smoke curled up from the blackened fingertips like smudged little ghosts. Chris's eyes never left the threatening hand, following it as best he could as it moved to the side of his face and cupped his cheek. The heat from the extinguished flames still lingered and fluttered through Chris's skin. The slow burning warmth seemed to trickle like drips of candle wax, throughout his body, pooling into one sensitive area.

"Set…my ass on fire?" Unable to help himself, Chris nuzzled against the palm that was pressed to his blushing cheek. "I might enjoy that, actually."

Kane tilted his head again, this time to the other side, as one icy eye and one brown one studied carefully the pretty features before him; pouty pink lips, soft rosy cheeks, bright, inquisitive eyes the color of shimmering sapphire, and that beautiful blond waves framing his face and falling over his shoulders—he looked like an angel with naughty intentions. Kane's anger softened, turning to a fang of pain in his gut, as he wondered how it would be to look into the mirror each morning and see something so gorgeous and perfect, rather than a face so horrible it must be hidden behind red and black.

He loosened his grasp on Chris's neck, setting his feet back to the floor. The hand at Chris's neck moved away, brushing over his shoulder, ticklishly along his spine, stopping for a moment just above the toned humps that were often slapped and pinched. Kane's grabbed one of them fully, squeezing the perfect flesh before moving his fingers between them. Chris's eyes only seemed to darken and cloud with lust as Kane's fingers pressed up into the crevasse, wedging the spandex material of Chris's tights there as the fingers stroked and pushed hard.

"You've been watching me, Chris. Have you been lusting to see what lies beneath?"

The question was double edged, both meanings lost on neither of the men. Kane dug his fingers against the sensitive flesh, forcing Chris's eyes to squeeze closed as a pitiful mewl escaped his parted lips.

"Y-yes." Chris gasped out, clenching his teeth in attempts to hold back the wanton moans that were building within as Kane continued to grope and prod.

When he did stop, and drew the fingers away, Chris was disappointed at the loss. The sensations had seemed to burn through his body as if tiny, chasing flames were coursing up and down his nerves. It was as though the neurotic bundles were wicks afire, leading to a bomb buried deep inside that was just waiting to detonate with one final, mind-shattering explosion. Chris pried his eyes open to small slits and looked up to the sockets which were black beneath that mask, the eyes sparkling. Kane moved Chris's trembling hands to his strong shoulders, and rested them against the black straps.

Chris moved his hands over the strong shoulders and down the wide, muscled chest, brushing over the black mesh fabric and the crisscross of red belts and small buckles. Chris inched the fabric away, sliding the black straps down Kane's pale arms, over the curves of his chiseled muscle. His chest was slowly bared, and the defined pecs were smooth beneath Chris's hands, as they moved against each other. He shivered as his fingers brushed over the hard nubs, which seemed like two ripe cherries begging to be plucked at and suckled. The tension between the two was like electricity, the air between them seemed heavy and hot, both men's skin slicking in sweat as their breathing mirrored each other in excitement and arousal at the unhurried tease.

Beneath Kane's chest came the flat of his stomach, the muscles softly defined, and tightening when the fabric whispered over the sensitive flesh ticklishly. Chris stopped at Kane's waist, letting the top of the singlet hang over the big man's hips, as his cobalt eyes tried to take in everything.

"So many scars." Kane sighed, the sound sad like a lonely wind whispered through the bones of leafless trees.

"No," Chris spoke, his brow furrowing as he watched Kane's eyes. "There are no scars." He traced his fingers over the pale, flinching skin.

"Twisted, like tormented snakes bunched under the skin, forever branded into flesh…_freak._"

Chris shook his head.

"There are no scars." He repeated.

"What would you know of such things? Your face is perfect, pretty, untouched by brutal disfigurement. There is not even one unsightly mark to mar or maim it, as mine is. I am a monster."

"Let me see." Chris's fingers moved towards the edges of the mask. Kane's lips curled into a snarl and he swatted the hand away.

"No." Roughly he moved Chris's hand to a spot his spandex clothing still covered. "You may see only what I want you to see. Here there are no scars. Do you want to see?"

"I do." Chris answered, lightly stroking what pressed at the fabric.

Kane clutched Chris's shoulders and steered him further down the hallway, to an area which had previously been bustling with people readying for that nights show. Now all the company trucks had left the loading area vacant, everything packed up, the people disappeared. It was dark, and the large empty space was strewn only with a few haphazard stacks of abandoned boxes and a broken vending machine turned on its side against one wall. The cement floor was spotted with oil, and soon strewn with fallen clothing that they had peeled from one another.

The tryst was made with Chris's back laid against the overturned vending machine, his legs splayed as Kane parted the soft cheeks. He swiped his tongue between, tasting and wetting the discovered bud, fascinated with the shimmer of saliva that streaked it and the way Chris whined and writhed. The tips of the fingers poked from Kane's gloved hand burned with his increasing arousal, the ends glowing beneath the skin like hot embers. He ran the heated tips over Chris's body, dragging them down his chest and taut belly, leaving winding, sooty patterns against the tanned skin. Chris moaned, his back curving away from the machine beneath as pleasure pulsed through every part of him. The hot fingers brushed over the patch of soft dark curls at the base of Chris's erection, singeing them.

Chris's grip dug into Kane's shoulders, as his head lulled from side to side in pleasure, strands of long blond wet with sweat and pasted to his flushed face. Kane's sweet lapping tongue was replaced by those heated fingers stroking the strip of flesh and pressing at the entrance, much like he'd done before only without the barrier of clothes in the way now. Kane's other hand wrapped around the base of Chris's thick, throbbing, member and pumped it in sync with the other strokes. Chris's hips bucked up, barely able to keep from letting go just then and there—especially as his muddled mind attempted to anticipate what Kane would do next. There were a few options, each of them more than enough to blow Chris's mind as even already what Kane had done to him had sent him higher and further than anything before. It was all building so tightly inside like a guitar string being twisted and wound closer and closer to the point of snapping with one last, sharp note.

Finally, one of the fingers breached the snug ring of muscle and wiggled inside. The picture of need Chris painted beneath Kane as he rolled his hips, his mouth slightly open, his eyes rolling back before he closed them again, was the most wonderful thing a mismatched gaze had beheld. A fire deeper than the ones conjured to life on his fingertips smoldered to combustion as soft sounds fell from Chris's opened mouth. The song only became louder and more desperate when a second finger was slipped inside to stretch and caress at the inside of the passage that seemed tensely clinched around them. He pressed once into that special spot that he felt inside, and Chris's nails dug into his skin. The blonde's shout of ecstasy was loud and echoing, and fell off into a pathetic whimper when the fingers pleasuring his insides were slipped out. The hand moving up and down his strained length didn't stop, and Chris nearly lost it when he felt the brush of lips against the needful head. The wet muscle of Kane's tongue lulled out and dragged across the swollen tip leaving a smear of stickiness against the velvety red surface.

Chris's hands went from Kane's shoulders to his long, auburn hair, gripping the locks and tugging at the damp ringlets. Kane pushed Chris's knees to his chest and Chris held them there with his arms hooked under the backs of his knees, ready like a good boy. Kane guided his own impressive erection to Chris's entrance and forced the engorged tip inside, shivering at the sounds Chris made for him. He pushed on until he was buried deep into the smaller man who was gasping as though he was drowning, his pretty face almost glittering with the perspiration from their pleasures. Breathing was just about the only other thing Chris could concentrate on—and even still it was at the back of his mind being forgotten until his lungs ached and demanded it. His belly ached deliciously with the fullness of the impressive organ which was packed inside of him. Where ever Kane was taking him, he never wanted to come back.

Kane started to thrust, pounding into the small blond, who looked like he was stoned out of his mind. The blue orbs of his eyes rolled and crossed, fluttered open and closed, completely lost. The sound of their flesh connecting wetly reverberated through the empty space they occupied, accompanied by grunting from one and strangled cries from the other. Chris managed to keep his eyes pinned to Kane's in the last moments, when he felt them both tensing together, verging on that explosion that Chris wasn't sure he could ever recover from. In the tiny black pits of Kane's eyes, ringed one with brown and one with ice, flames burned there, and at the moment of their combined climax, the tongues of fire swelled wild and blue, consuming all.

Kane let out an enormous sigh as he pulled out of the blond angel laid beneath him. His arms cradled the trembling man and stroked his flushed face. Chris's lips barely had the strength to curl into a satisfied smirk—more satisfied than he could ever remember. Everything was given to him, and taken from him. He felt completely weightless, even unaware of where he was for a few moments. He blinked up to the face that belonged to the strong arms holding him—or at least the mask. His trembling hand reached for it, tracing over the patterns. After a moment of incoherent thought, he managed to find and mumble out the words he was searching for.

"Please, can I see?"

There was a long silence. Chris had thought it best at last to take the non-answer for a 'no' and his spent body began drift around the edges of a dream-like state, some sort of purgatory between sleep and wakefulness.

With a wavering sigh, Kane curled his fingers beneath the mask, and pulled it away from his face. Chris's eyes were already closed, but even still, Kane had let him see more than most. He wandered to himself if there would be more, and in the back of his mind he knew the answer. He had learned long ago to separate such things from his lonely mind. He was a monster, and no one could see past the scars. He traced his fingers over the battered flesh, the ugly, twisted, webs of skin left from the fire. Kane looked back down into the serene, sleeping face, tears plucking at his freakish eyes.

It was so perfect.

He shifted Chris in his arms, and put his mask back on feeling the comfort it afforded him, hiding the disfigurement lodged only in his mind.


End file.
